


After the Grudge

by ptw30



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It Fic for VLD Season 8, Gen, Group Hugs, Shiro needs TLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 08:24:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17240834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptw30/pseuds/ptw30
Summary: Zethrid went after Shiro to get at Keith, and now she's on Atlas. The bridge is worried, and the paladins want to address an ongoing issue.OR: Shiro needs group hugs.





	After the Grudge

**Author's Note:**

> You know I'm a BlackPaladinShiro girl, but...I needed to write this after Season 8. Also, Shiro and Slav didn’t speak in Season 8. I needed to rectify that.

Shiro supervised Zethrid’s transfer onto the Atlas and then into custody. Keith had begun to protest back on the Baltuf Nebula planet, but Shiro assured him Zethrid was sufficiently restrained and Shiro wasn’t helpless. 

In Atlas’ hanger, Shiro sought Keith, who’d been accosted after touching down by both Axca and Kolivan. He watched as the other paladins filtered in, gravitating toward each other, and he took a step forward, only to see Matt lunge at Pidge, Coran run toward Allura, Veronica find Lance, and Hunk receive a hug from Romelle. 

They were safe. That was enough, Shiro told himself, taking a step back, then another, and another. He held it together until he reached his quarters and dropped his helmet. So close. Keith had promised him that Voltron would be alright, but if he had been a dobash later, if Veronica and the bridge had not been able to find the block – Shiro shuttered. 

He’d relive that one moment, when he saw Keith’s neck trapped in Zethrid’s massive hand, for the rest of his life. 

A beep on his quarters’ control panel alerted him of an incoming transmission from the Rebels, as well as medical reports on the paladins. Paperwork, requests, maintenance on the ship – Shiro couldn’t break down now. He’d schedule that for after hours. 

For now, he switched out of his space suit for his uniform and entered the office off his quarters. 

“Shiro, we need to talk,” Iverson began, startling Shiro. 

The office was small, and it seemed crowded now with Iverson standing before his desk, Colleen occupying one of the visitor seats, and Sam standing just inside the quarters. Slav scurried about Shiro’s desk, rearranging the few knickknacks and muttering about fissures, but Shiro ignored him as fear ran down his back like ice water. 

“Is everyone all right?”

“The paladins are fine, sweetie.” Standing, Colleen rested a hand upon Shiro’s arm. “Sam and Mitch were watching from the bridge. That warlord went after you.”

Shiro found it difficult not to laugh, though he managed to turn it into a shrug. “It’s not the first time. And she went after Keith, actually.”

“She’s on the ship, Shiro,” Sam admonished – or at least, it sounded like that. “If somehow she manages to escape, there’s a good chance – ”

“If she manages to escape, then we’re failing at our mission.” Shiro leaned back upon his desk and crossed his arms and ankles. “We probably should up the security on the paladins, though, just to be sure. Maybe place a few guards in their corridor.”

“You’re ignoring the bigger issue.”

“What issue?”

Slav tugged at Shiro’s boot and his nerves. “Are wearing green socks? They better not be brown.”

Shiro could feel the vein at this temple bulging, though Iverson stole his attention. “She came after _you,_ Shiro. When given the choice, she decided against killing Keith to attack you.”

“So?” He shrugged and tried to jerk his leg unsuccessfully from Slav’s iron grip. “Look, we’ve been in dangerous situations before. This is no different.”

“Except that if something were to happen to you – ”

Shiro interrupted Sam with a shrug. “I understand your concern over Atlas. I will try to be more careful, but if it came between me and the paladins, then I’d – ”

“Is that what you think?” Colleen gasped, hand coming up to cover her mouth. “That we’re here because of Altas?”

Why would there be another reason? “I’m the only one who can transform the ship. I’m the best weapon we have when Voltron is – erk!”

Shiro found himself tugged into Colleen’s hold, one arm tight about his neck, the other petting his hair. Having close to half a foot on her, Shiro was bent over, back protesting as Slav unzipped Shiro’s boot. 

“Shiro, sweetie.” Colleen’s voice sounded thick and constricted with tears. “You’re not a weapon.”

Haggar said he was, a long time ago. He could have been the Galra’s greatest. Then he’d become the Black Paladin, and arguably, the coalition’s best fighter. Then he’d died, fighting the emperor, only to be reborn. When Atlas took to the sky and then transformed for the first time, he’d wondered if this was what Haggar meant. His quintessence, his ability to do whatever he did to Atlas, his fighting instincts. 

Colleen pulled back, just enough to glare into his eyes, her own glassy and red-rimmed. “Sweetie, we worry about _you,_ not the ship. No one in this room cares about the damn ship.”

“I do,” Slav interjected. “Without it, the crew’s survival would be statistically – oh, no. Do you want to get us all killed? You are wearing black socks! And they have little white lions on them!”

Shiro fought the blush that heated his cheeks. “I, uh, Lance. He – a few months back, thought that maybe – ”

“This is terrible. We need to get him new socks immediately!”

“Then learn how to knit,” Sam muttered before resting a hand upon Shiro’s shoulder. “Colleen is right, Shiro. You need to take care of yourself and then you can think about the ship.”

“But – ”

“No,” Iverson said, shoulders square and eye unrelenting. “We’ve let this gone on long enough. We deferred command to you of the Atlas, but we are still your superior officers.”

“I already assigned a few officers to be outside your door,” Sam added, “and they will escort you around the ship until we leave Zethrid at the rebels’ base.”

“And I’ll be making sure you have the appropriate colored socks,” Colleen said with a smile and a wink, just for Shiro. 

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Do I get any say in this?”

“No,” came the chorus, though Slav added, “Unless you want to doom us all.”

Shiro opened his mouth to protest but immediately clicked it shut. By the serious looks Iverson, Sam, and Colleen gave him, Shiro knew he wouldn’t win. The quick dismissal rankled, but Shiro couldn’t shake his own relief. When he flew Black, he depended upon Keith and Allura’s strength, needed Lance and Hunk’s amical nature, relied on Pidge’s courage, and enjoyed Coran’s humor. He hadn’t been alone, and since coming back to life, he’d felt that was all he was. 

But not anymore. 

Even Slav’s panicked, “We need to get him new socks now!” didn’t fray Shiro’s nerves any longer, and he thought, maybe, he’d finally made it home. 

The office doors swooshed open, allowing a wet-haired, jean-clad, barefoot Keith inside. Keith came up short, eyes wide and shocked, but he stopped himself half-way into a salute. 

“…is anyone else getting flashbacks?” 

It did remind Shiro of the times Iverson would call him and Keith to his room for a thorough dressing down, but he wouldn’t admit it. 

“We’ll let you rest.” Iverson clapped Shiro on the back, though he could have swore it was more like an “up-the-side-of-the-head” cuff. He did a similar move to Keith, who ducked his head, while Colleen pressed a kiss to Shiro’s cheek. Sam did a casual salute and headed out, while Slav tugged off Shiro’s second boot and started on his socks. 

“Give me those!”

He chucked Shiro’s boots toward the exit to the personal chambers before storming out. He stopped at Keith and smirked at the bare feet. “At least someone on his ship takes the fate of the universe seriously.”

Once the doors shut, Keith raised an eyebrow at Shiro’s uniform, minus his boots and socks. 

“Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.” Shiro sighed and dropped his hands to the edge of his desk. Keith looked tired but determined. He came with a purpose. “Something I can help you with?”

“Uh, yeah, actually.” Keith ruffled the back of his hair, fidgeting and uncomfortable. “You left the hanger pretty quickly.”

“You all were busy and taken care of. You didn’t need me to – ”

“ – but we did, didn’t we? If not for you – ”

“You would have some other way to win,” Shiro said with a genuine smile, even though his insides shivered. “You always do.” 

“Yeah, we did because you always have Voltron’s back.”

Shiro nodded but said nothing else. Even if it was true, it hurt to think they’d left him behind, went on their own journey, and now revered him differently. Not quite an outsider but perhaps not part of the team. 

“You always have _my_ back,” Keith said, softer. His teeth worried his bottom lip. “Shiro, Zethrid went after you to hurt me.”

So that was what was bothering Keith. As a beep sounded on his console, Shiro let out a breathless laugh and turned. “Ah, don’t worry. I’m sure someone will return the favor soon – Keith?”

Keith latched himself onto Shiro from behind, arms locked about Shiro’s waist, face buried between Shiro’s shoulder blades. 

“You can’t – You can’t leave me again.” 

He wasn’t planning to. Shiro didn’t come back to life just to die again, but it was true that today had been a close call for both of them. And they were going after Haggar, the person who tortured Shiro during his time in the Galra Empire. 

Was that why Keith was so adamant to go after Haggar? To stop her from harming Shiro again?

Shiro shifted in Keith’s grip and draped his arms about Keith’s shoulders, drawing him close. He lay his cheek upon the top of Shiro’s head. “It’s okay, Keith. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Keith nodded, and Shiro caught the glistening on his cheeks. He allowed himself a few shivering breaths, focusing on the warmth of Keith’s body and Keith’s steady heartbeat. 

“You need to promise, too,” he murmured. He refused to let Keith go without a promise. He wouldn’t lose Keith again, not to the Blades and certainly not to dumped warlords. He wouldn’t. 

Keith nodded, probably not trusting his voice. Shiro accepted that – for now. 

The doors opened again. “Yo, Shiro, we gotta talk today about that stunt you and Mullet – oh, Keith’s already beaten me here.”

Another swish. “Shiro, I hope you don’t mind me intruding, but – Lance, Keith? Ah, good. I’m glad you’re both here. We need to address – ”

Swish. “Who wants some freshly baked zalkota cookies? They go great with interventions and guilt trips. Pidge, what are you doing?”

“Reconfiguring this door. Dad and Iverson placed two guards outside, but they can’t stop what they can’t see. And they just let all of us in here. I don’t trust them with Shiro’s life.”

“In a moment, Number Five! Let’s discuss the matter at hand first.” Coran closed the door behind the paladins with a wicked smile. “Number One, you can’t just run away like – ”

“I get it, guys. I do.” Shiro smiled, perhaps brighter and lighter than he had in some time. Making sure to keep Keith tucked against his side, he opened his arms to the team. “Bring it in.”

He missed Black and always would. He missed being a part of Voltron, but just because he wasn’t in a lion anymore, didn’t mean he wasn’t part of the team. He could remember a hug like his before, but feeling it and experiencing it for himself, Shiro wondered how he ever doubted his place with these people, his family. 

Keith and Lance stuck near him for the next few days, and Hunk made his favorite foods. Pidge reworked his door security while Allura spoke about weaving some Altean magical wards. 

Shiro wondered how he ever allowed Sam and Kolivan to talk him into letting Slav be part of the Atlas crew, but as he walked out of his room one day, he found the genius holding up a pair of new socks. 

“Quick, put these on!”

Shiro huffed but long gave up arguing, instead taking off his boots and switching his white socks for the black, red, and yellow ones. “You do know that the fate of the universe does not ride on what socks I’m wearing, right?”

“The fate of the universe? That was last week’s issue. I’m talking about your life here! There is a twenty-three-point-five percent chance that…”

The words faded into nothing. Slav searched for socks to help him, save him, and not the universe. Slav worried about _him._

As Slav continued to ramble, Shiro offered a hand to the engineer and allowed the worm-like being to weave about his torso. With a tiny smile – and two guards – Shiro headed toward the bridge for his shift. 

_The End_


End file.
